


A Storyteller's Game

by MIMS4



Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Homestuck, Vocaloid, 境界の彼方 | Kyoukai no Kanata | Beyond the Boundary
Genre: A Storyteller's Game, ASG, Gen, Project Storyteller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MIMS4/pseuds/MIMS4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six cosplayers, each strangers from different fandoms, get trapped at in a convention building and have to figure out how to get out. As this happens, they must also face other problems like rivalries, obsessions, and incompatibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BLINDING WHITE

"Yuzu." Reaching up, a girl wearing a short, peach-colored wig tapped the shoulder of a boy with a short, black wig. When he turned around, the girl looked straight into his eyes, both masked by green contacts. "You have another fan over on my side." She was about a head shorter than the boy, Yuzu, who also wore a black-and-red striped scarf and school uniform. Her curly wig matched the color of the sweater she wore on top of a blue school uniform similar to Yuzu's. She didn't like contacts, but her surprisingly natural pink and purple eyes were always mistaken for them. Thick, red spectacles without actual lenses framed those eyes, and at first glance, it was hard to tell whether the eyes or the glasses caught attention first. In the morning rush, her wig was knocked off-center, so her jet black hair peeked out from the bangs. She hadn’t had the time to fix it yet.  
  
    "Thanks, Yaya." Yuzu adjusted his own wig momentarily before giving the girl a pat on the head.  
  
    "I told you, call me Ayaka or Aya." Ayaka gently pushed Yuzu's hand away. "Yaya is specifically for my fans."  
  
    "But I am a fan," Yuzu said jokingly. "I love your art."  
  
    "You’re not exactly the same, you know,” Ayaka crossed her arms. “Anyway, the girl would like an autograph from you, so don’t forget the marker.” She made her way back through a propped up wall printed with the convention logo behind Yuzu. This was the only direct way between the Artist Alley and the Cosplay Corridor.  
  
    Following suit, Yuzu grabbed the black, permanent marker on his fold up table and made his way to the other side. Comparable to the flashing cameras of the Cosplay Corridor, the Artist Alley was filled with fans of all ages carrying bags of every size. Ayaka stood waiting, making small talk with the fan she was probably talking about.  
  
    "There he is." Ayaka motioned Yuzu over.  
  
    When he made his way towards them, the fan, a young girl, lit up. "Can I, uh, have your autograph, Yuyu?" She quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment, "I mean! Yuzu..." The girl nervously held out a board with both hands.  
  
    "Yuyu?" Yuzu tilted his head, smiling. "What a cute nickname, thanks." He accepted the board and uncapped the permanent marker. In capitalized letters, he wrote out his name, then signed an asterisk at the end. He handed the autographed board back to the girl, who beamed and carefully placed the board back into her large bag. The logo on the bag told YUZU* that she had recently purchased from PlushNote, a famous doll-making group specializing in VOCALOID goods.  
  
    "And, uhm," a silver camera peeked out from the bag, “Picture…?”  
  
    "Why not?" YUZU* began patting down his cosplay to get rid of strange wrinkles and folds. He then proceeded to comb his wig slightly with his fingers and patted the top of it.  
  
    "Sorry, I'm kinda in the way here." Ayaka stepped over to the side of the booth.  
  
    The fan stopped her. “Oh, uhm! I want a picture of you, too, Ayaya!” Her tone changed as she followed up with, “Is that ok?” The camera between her two hands waited in anticipation.  
  
    Ayaka put her finger to her chin as if in mock thought. “Only if you know what characters we’re cosplaying as!” Walking over to the left side of her booth, she picked up the red sword she had ignored until then. Another hint for who they were cosplaying, or preparation for the photo.  
  
    “Easy!” The girl grinned as Ayaka brought the sword over. Pointing to Ayaka, she said, “Kuriyama Mirai, from Beyond the Boundary!” Then, to YUZU*, she said, “Nase Hiroomi. Also from Beyond the Boundary.”  
  
    “Ding ding!” Ayaka mimicked a ringing bell. “Correct!”  
  
    Without a moment’s hesitation, the fan eagerly held the camera up.  
  
    YUZU* leaned his head towards Ayaka slightly, keeping his eyes on the camera. “Can I call you Ayaya?” he whispered to her as the fan turned on the device and set it up.  
  
    “No,” she hissed back. “Fans only.”  
  
    Positioned at the perfect angle, the fan called out, “Ready?”  
  
    “Ready!” YUZU* and Ayaka leaned closer, backs facing each other, posing in a way they believed their character would. Ayaka pointed the sword at the camera, in hopes it would create an interesting blurry effect and show depth. YUZU* averted his eyes from the camera and, using two fingers, held a small portion of the scarf to cover his mouth.  
  
    A flash of bright light and a shutter sound, the fan was satisfied how well the photo turned out. She shyly thanked the both of them for their time.  
  
    “And that will be fifteen dollars.” Ayaka held out her open palm to the young girl.  
  
    “Eh?” The fan looked at Ayaka with utter confusion. YUZU* did the same. _When did we start charging for pictures?_  
  
    After shaking her head slightly, as if to shake off the momentary hesitation, the young girl reached into her bag to pull out a teal-colored wallet printed with the white outline of a girl in a school uniform.  _Hatsune Miku._  YUZU* recognized the twintailed singer. _The girl is really decked out in VOCALOID stuff._  
  
    Ayaka smiled and withdrew her hand. “I was kidding. Good joke, right?” YUZU* and the fan were even more confused. “Sorry,” Ayaka apologized. “Here, take this. I shouldn’t have joked like that.” Seeing the girl was armed with VOCALOID goods, Ayaka gave her a print of her art with one of the virtual singers on it.  _Wait, why did she give her KAITO?_  YUZU* gestured to Ayaka that the girl would probably prefer one of Miku, but failed to get the message across since Ayaka directed her attention to the girl overflowing with joy.  
  
    “Thank you!” She grinned, putting both her wallet and new poster into the PlushNote bag. When everything was in, she waved to YUZU* and Ayaka. “Bye! Hope to see you again next year!” They both waved back at her, watching her slowly merge with the bustling crowd.  
  
    “Next year,” YUZU* said, slowly lowering his hand.  
  
    “Don’t think that much ahead yet,” Ayaka patted him on the back. “That’s too far into the future to worry about. Think about right now and enjoy this time.” Picking up the marker left behind on the table, she tossed it to YUZU*, who barely caught it in time. “Make sure no one’s at your booth, then go pick up some lunch for us, ok?” She added, “Tuna salad, please.”  
  
    “Anything else?” YUZU* headed over to the propped wall, ready to pass through.  
  
    “Hmm.” Ayaka thought for a moment. “Perhaps some kind of tea to drink?”  
  
    “Got it.” Smirking, YUZU* added playfully, “Since you didn’t mention any specifics, I guess the bitter kind will work.” He stepped through the opening. “You should try it. It’s good for you.”  
  
    “You better not!” Ayaka laughed. She knew he wouldn’t, considering the number of times he’d bought them tea. Ayaka requested the sweet, fruity kind every time. The bitter ones were her absolute least favorite kind, even if they were healthy.  
  
    Back at his booth, YUZU* looked around, seeing no one waiting. Some of the other cosplayers nearby had abandoned their station for the time being.  _Everyone’s probably getting ready to eat,_  YUZU* thought. He dropped off the marker and snatched his wallet from his blue jacket.  
  
    Heading out of the Cosplay Corridor, he walked across the large center hall to the opposite side, where food of all kinds was being served. Third from the entrance was the sandwich bar, unsurprisingly and uncreatively named  _Sandwich Deli_. YUZU* ordered Ayaka’s sandwich, two in case she was incredibly hungry, and checked out the other options for his own lunch.  
  
     _I’m not really in the mood for a sandwich, though._  None of the menu items appealed to him.   
  
    The cashier motioned him over, then told him he would have to wait ten minutes for the sandwich because they were out of tuna until the next batch came. YUZU* shrugged and agreed to wait. He wandered around the food court, trying to decide what he would get instead.  
  
    When he reached a hamburger joint, he heard distant cheering. YUZU* couldn’t make it out very well, but it sounded like a competition. Mixing in the occasional sound of a car’s engine and gunfire, he guessed it was a gaming competition. Or something much worse, but YUZU* decided that was probably not it. He tracked down the direction the noise was coming from and decided to see what was up. After all, he had some time before the tuna came.  
  
    As the cheering grew louder, the amount of people in the halls decreased until YUZU* realized he was walking through an empty hallway. He couldn’t even hear the sound anymore. Confused, YUZU* made his way backwards to ask the first person he came across if they knew where the competition was being held.  
  
    In sheer luck, the first person he bumped into was one of the convention staff, a lady with blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Her hair was tied up in a bun and she carried a clipboard and pen. _Very official-looking,_  YUZU* thought. Then he noticed she was wearing a button. _Isn’t that Shindou Ayaka?_  YUZU* came close enough to identify the character on the pin, which was surprisingly from Beyond the Boundary. _She must be pretty updated on her anime._  
  
    “Can I help you?” the woman asked. YUZU* looked away from the button and to the staff member.  
  
    “Uhm, no.” YUZU* quickly correct himself, “I mean, yes! Do you know if there’s a video game competition going on near here? I heard there was one.” He actually didn’t, but saying he heard car engines and gunshots that reminded him of video games wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do.  
  
    The lady checked her clipboard, peeling the first page from the second for more information. “It seems there is,” she finally said, after landing on the sixth page. “But you’re heading the wrong way. If you turn around and head forward, you’ll eventually come to a door and the competition’s being held there.” The pages settled back onto the clipboard when she let go of them.  
  
    “Thank you.” YUZU* instinctively bowed, then turned around, back the direction he came.  _So it_  was  _this way_ , he thought to himself.  
  
    The hallway curved slightly, preventing him from knowing how far the door was. Eventually, YUZU* came across a dead end, and at the center was the door the lady described. The cheers and arcade noises were very distinct now, drawing YUZU* in. He knew he only had a few minutes, but just a peek would be ok.  
  
    YUZU* grabbed the long handle of the wooden door and gently opened it, careful not to disturb the gamers inside.  _They probably won’t notice, though._  Bright, white light quickly flowed out, momentarily blinding YUZU*. Thinking it was just the bright arcade lights, he stepped in, wishing his eyes would adjust to the change faster. Before he could realize the light wasn’t fading away, YUZU*’s eyes were shut tight by some outside force and he, himself, fell unconscious.  
  
    The door closed with a slam, echoing through the empty halls.  
  


* * *

  
  
_YUZU* here again. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ_  
It’s been a year since my last SmileCon. Glad to be back.  
Was it always this chilly? I know it's winter but we're pretty far down.   
Glad this year's cosplay is a winter school uniform. Bonus, it comes with a scarf.  
If you didn't already know, Journalさん, for Friday, I'm Nase Hiroomi and ayaka's Kuriyama Mirai.  
We debated about who we should be for KnK for a while, since ayaka liked Mirai and I liked Hiroomi.  
Cosplay for the ship or who you like? It went on for a while...  
But in the end, we decided it's better to go as who you want to be.  
And that's the point of cosplaying, isn't it?  
I've improved on sewing, so this year's outfits are fancier than the last.（笑）  
ayaka also improved. The art I never thought could get better did. I can't explain how, but it just draws you in more now. (￣▽￣)  
Her art pays off both her booth and my own. I should really start selling photo albums. Can't let ayaka do everything.  
Would people even buy it? σ <^_^;>  
I'll just have to make it look appealing enough. ayaka could help with the illustrations...  
No, I can't ask for ayaka's help this time. She's been selling her art alone, so I should too.  
Well, I guess I helped her by showing her a good printing place...（・v・；）  
No, no, no, all alone. That's that.  
I don't even know why I keep typing up a journal entry every day.  
ayaka told me it would help. Help what? I forgot if she told me.  
I hope this year, something exciting happens. I've been to so many conventions, I'm worried I'm not excited anymore.  
Maybe I need to take a break sometime and check out some panels or something.  
I wonder if ayaka would like that.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wait up, you guys. My wig is falling off again,” said Liza Mortimer in a practiced British accent.

Liza’s three best friends, Hollie, Karen, and Janetta, stood in their respective military uniforms and waited while Liza re-situated the spiky blond wig on her head. She’d dedicated days of work to this handmade Arthur Kirkland cosplay, also known as England, of the Hetalia fandom. Many hours had been spent scouring the web for the perfect reference pictures, picking out the exact shade of green fabric, stitching pieces together and picking them apart and stitching them back together again. It was a lot of work, but this was Liza’s first anime convention, and she was determined to get it right. And now the _wig_ was giving her trouble?

“It’s ‘cause you have so much hair,” her friend Hollie, dressed as the personification of America, pointed out helpfully. She kept glancing at the immense room behind her, the Artist’s Alley, with poorly disguised impatience. Rows upon rows of booths stretched out from wall to wall, displaying posters, buttons, plushies, and all kinds of other amazing items which Liza probably couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Says you! No way am I going to cut all my hair off just so it can fit into a wig. Don’t be a stupid America.” Liza finished straightening her wig and ran up to join them, unable to keep herself from smiling. “Have some patience! I want to get going, too, but I have to put up with this ridiculous wig. I can’t… Oh, wow! Look at all these people!”

All around them, cosplayers swarmed through the aisles as if they had found their one true home. Liza’s eyes skipped from one brightly colored costume to the next. Most of these characters were ones she’d never even heard of, but some she recognized. Each one made her want to squee a little more. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her camera, wrapped securely around her wrist. She’d _have_ to get photos of everyone.

“Look, it’s Miku!” Karen, who was dressed as Japan, pointed at a girl with long teal twintails. “Liza, can I borrow your camera?”

Liza clutched the camera to her chest, staring at her friend in mock horror. “Bloody hell, you can’t be serious!”

Karen pouted. “But…Miku!”

“But…my camera!” Liza’s camera was her most precious and beloved possession. To ask to touch it would be like asking to vandalize the creation that had led the four of them here, the anime that they adored with an undying and sometimes frightening devotion. To others, their dedication to this anime appeared almost bizarrely religious. But those were the people who did not understand.

Oh, the things they didn’t understand. Those people, the outsiders, known to some by the grim title of “the normal ones”, would never understand what it felt like to give yourself over completely to another world, to be inescapably, deliciously _obsessed_. Liza had had obsessions before, but nothing else had ever even come close to the scale of how she felt about this one special fandom: Hetalia. Although she had at first rejected the off-the-wall humor and overall weirdness of this anime that depicted the countries of the world as people, it had quickly grown on her. Ever since that day a few months ago in sophomore history class, when she’d accidentally referred to Germany as “he”, she’d known it was a done deal. There was no going back. Hetalia had taken over her life.

And she loved it.

Within a few days of discovering Hetalia, Liza and her friends had begun working out which of them corresponded to which countries. Hollie would be crazy, outgoing America. Karen could be no one but the calm and polite Japan. Janetta at first identified loosely with China, but soon decided to be carefree Italy instead. As for Liza, there was never any question about who she was going to be. Everything about England matched her personality perfectly.

Or at least, she wanted it to…

Sitting in front of the computer practicing her British accent. Learning to duck her head away and deny things in just the right voice, until she had being tsundere down to a fine art. True, her mom did think she’d gone a little overboard after that one time when Liza nearly burned down the kitchen trying to make the perfect disgusting scones. (She didn’t _mean_ to set the oven on fire. Only scorch it a little.) But in the end, it was all worth it. Every last second of it. Anything, as long as Liza could escape from the kind of person she’d been before.

To their left, a large group of cosplayers sporting gray skin and bright orange horns passed by. “Look,” Liza said, elbowing her friends, “they’re _Homestucks_.” Everyone knew that Homestucks and Hetalians were the ultimate rivals. At least, according to that thing she saw on the internet that one time.

“ _Miku_.” Karen poked Liza’s shoulder.

“Look!” Janetta tapped Liza’s other shoulder urgently. “It’s that France cosplayer you saw before.”

“Oh my gosh!” Already opening her camera like a tiger (or a fangirl) ready to pounce, Liza wildly scanned the mishmash of anime characters. “Where?”

“Over there!” Janetta pointed, and then Liza saw him. That face, exactly the way she had always imagined he’d look in real life. That perfectly drawn-on stubble. That amazing (handmade?) cosplay that was perfect in every way. Before, she had known as soon as she laid eyes upon him that this was the one. This was the France cosplayer she had been waiting all her fangirlhood to snap a photo of, or—dare she imagine—roleplay with.

Then with a swoosh of his fabulous blond wig, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Now Liza locked on to him again with the unyielding determination only a fangirl can possess. And this time, she wasn’t going to let him go.

She was already starting toward him through the crowd. “Okay, I’ll see you guys later.”

“Wait! The panel starts in ten minutes,” Karen protested, but Liza cut her off.

“I’ll meet you there. First, I’ve got to get this picture!” Those were the last words Liza’s friends heard from her, nearly lost in the din of five thousand multicolored otakus as she slipped away into the crowd.

Liza’s heart raced as she made her way toward the cosplayer of her dreams. All the epic shipping photos she had ever imagined flashed through her head (which was really saying something, because there were a lot of them), each one now made complete with the nameless France cosplayer’s face. This was the reason Liza had no interest in a normal boyfriend. Never mind that she probably wouldn’t ever see this person again, or even learn his name—it was enough just knowing such a perfect photo subject existed.

She elbowed past scores of people, hardly even hearing her own “sorry”s and “pardon”s dropping from her mouth. Even the excitement of participating in her first Hetalia panel paled in comparison to the one thing that really mattered: her OTP.

_Calm down,_ Liza chided herself, to little avail. _It’s not like he’ll actually take those shipping photos with me anyway. He doesn’t even know me. You’ve got to be the perfect England—don’t get too excited._ Still, her mind was spinning and her spirit was soaring as she broke through the crowd and faced her soul-cosplayphoto-mate, the incantation of her love bursting out in a perfect British accent: “Can I take a photo of you?”

Slowly, the cosplayer turned. Eyes registering mild surprise, face arranging into a polite smile, the perfect France cosplayer said in a voice that was much higher than what Liza was expecting: “Sure, no problem.”

All of Liza’s hopes and dreams came crashing down. They shattered on the floor like a million glass bottles, fantasies oozing out from the broken shards as if taunting her, all spelling out one single, horrible realization:

_She was a girl._

“O-oh,” Liza said, very nearly breaking out of her British accent by mistake. As quickly as she could she masked her disappointment behind a straight face. “Um, great.” Getting out her camera, Liza snapped a few pictures of the France cosplayer who was still just as awesome as before, except for the eensy little fact that she’d just crushed Liza’s heart into bits. _What are you so disappointed about, anyway?_ she asked herself. _You didn’t really think that the two of you would somehow instantly become a perfect couple, did you? Idiot._ Yet a fangirl’s broken dreams are a heavy, heavy thing. With a wistful sigh, Liza thought of all the France x England (a.k.a. FrUK) photos that now had to be rendered faceless in her imagination once again. Then she thanked the unsuspecting cosplayer and walked away.

As she looked around, it dawned on Liza that she now had no idea where she was. _Idiot,_ she thought, and beneath that, _Why’d the stupid France cosplayer have to be a girl? Why’d I have to get my stupid hopes up?_ She’d left the Artists’ Alley (her friends all pronounced it as “Artists’ Ally”, like the Allied Powers as they were depicted in Hetalia) when chasing after the France cosplayer, and wasn’t sure where she was. Forget going back through the Ally—that place was huge, and she’d probably just get even more lost than she was already. A glance at the clock told her it was 12:15, five minutes before the Hetalia panel she’d signed up for was scheduled to start. A panicky feeling rose up in her chest, and she forced it down. She just _had_ to get lost, hadn’t she? What awful luck.

Near the corner of the spacious room flooded with people, Liza’s gaze landed on a table near the corner marked INFORMATION. Sitting behind it was an official-looking woman wearing the pink colors of the convention. Normally, Liza was loathe to ask for help of any kind. It seemed very un-England-ish. But this was a dire situation, and so, Liza walked up to the table.

The woman had long, white-blond hair pulled back into a bun and pale eyes. She smiled slightly as Liza approached. For some reason, something about the woman struck Liza as odd, but she shrugged off the irrational feeling. “Excuse me,” said Liza, ever so Britishly, “but I think I’m lost. Could you tell me the way to the Hetalia Ask-A-Nation panel?”

The woman regarded her for a moment, a queer look flitting over her face so briefly Liza wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. She lifted a long, slender finger and pointed at a nondescript hallway on the other side of the room, one Liza hadn’t noticed before. “Go through that hallway and take a left. The door’s at the end of the hall.”

As she spoke, Liza noticed that she was wearing a button shaped like Flying Mint Bunny, England’s imaginary friend in the Hetalia series. If she had been in a better mood, Liza might have pointed it out. She also might have wondered why the hallway that the woman was pointing her toward appeared so empty and dimly lit, or why no one else seemed to pay it any notice. But as it so happened, Liza was not in a better mood, and in addition to that, she was in a rush. Chalking it up to her overly paranoid brain, she thanked the woman and headed toward the hallway.

Turning left, the chatter of the main room dropped away unexpectedly fast. Alone in the narrow hall, Liza could hear each of her footsteps falling against the soft carpet. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was headed toward something much bigger than what she expected. Something that she could not even begin to imagine yet.

She reached out to turn the handle of the unmarked door at the end of the hallway and stepped in.

Her first thought was of confusion. She stood in an empty, spacious room with rows and rows of folding chairs lined up facing a long table at the front. It _looked_ like a panel room, but it was completely empty of people. There were no other exits that she could see. Looking around, Liza searched for some sign, anything to tell her what she was supposed to do next.

Behind her, the door slammed shut with a heavy, metallic _clang_. The sound echoed through the empty room. Before her eyes, it seemed that everything was beginning to blur. Liza shook her head, trying to get rid of the sensation, but it only intensified. There seemed to be a point of black in front of her that was rapidly absorbing everything with its dark tendrils, and a low howling noise was growing louder and louder. A wrenching fear erupted in Liza’s chest as the thought _Am I going insane?_ ripped through her mind—it was the last lucid thing before she was overtaken by the void.


End file.
